My hangover lasted exactly 48 hours. During this period of time, "God" or the Universe or whatever you believe spins this sphere, sent me glimpses of what happened Saturday night. In the words of my friend Matt "YES, the night Jacqui went to Hollywood!" I've been here four years, and I have never taken it to the limit like that. As I think of leaving here, I think maybe it's good I took it all the way live at least the one time...
I am not good at keeping secrets so I have iterated this story to most of my friends. Not sure why I do that. I'm either seeking approval or attention. I'll let you know when Linda my therapist sorts that one. I'm thinking it's likely a combo. The attention seeking part of me will continue to pay her $100 an hour to discuss... Whoa, she is a genius. Job security.
Anyway. So far, what bothers me most, is the response of the two girlfriends I was with pre-sexcades. The first thing they both said when I gave them the rundown of the pornographic Cat in the Hat Story that was my Saturday night, ya know, I will do you in a hall, I will do you in a stall, apparently I will also do you in your car, Sam I Am, was: "You were wearing pants?!"
I think I would like that to be the title of my autobiography actually. I think Katherine Hepburn would be proud.
I am also bothered by one particular memory that keeps intruding on my day. He did, at one point, ask if we could go to my place. I remember thinking, eh, sounds like the makings of an awkward morning. I think I made some kind of face to indicate that I wasn't into that idea. I don't even think there was a verbal response. Just a blank stare and a pained look is what I remember. I don't know why he didn't offer his place. I think we were likely both of the mind that this should be kept as impersonal as possible. Drunk me is a real interesting gal. I'm going to dog ear this page in my journal to discuss with Linda. We need a couple on this level of intimacy phobia.
Next thing that bothers me is the fact that he called me Monday night... at 11:15PM. I was thinking it was my boss or maybe the phone sexer... super, but no, it was Sexcapades. No rest for the morally questionable it seems. When he asked for my number I found it perplexing. I wasn't going to ask for his. We didn't even do it indoors. Why bother? But I gave it to him since we have a mutual friend. I figured it was just a formality. Then he called, at 11:15 at night. I didn't answer cause, way too soon for a booty call buddy, and what else can it be? Anyway. He left a nice message saying call him tonight, cause "he'd be up" or tomorrow, ya know, when the rest of the people with regular jobs will be awake. I figured I'd go ahead and call him the next day cause I'm adventurous, see what he had to say. After all we're just two adults who blacked out and had sex in a hotel bathroom. Should be an interesting conversation.
Well I got a text at 9:30AM saying "I told "our mutual friend" nothing happened". This a group of middle-aged man children. I am thinking there is a 10-15% chance this is true. I like the effort however. There was some banter during which he revealed some things that lead me to believe that he was not so drunk as I. Hmm. Black Out Drunkenness should happen in pairs cause then no one has to know the truth. I find myself sitting here, wondering, what ELSE does he know about me. I have a tendency to say too much (I know you're shocked I'm sure), so there is a universe of embarrassing things I might have said. I've been watching his twitter feed.. I'll let you know if something shows up that I can claim.
P.S. This all happened while I was wearing a vintage Clash t-shirt that I had just purchased that day. I've been staring at thing wondering who owned it previously. I bet they did it all the way live as well...
that's awesome you didn't want him in your house. good call. nothing worse than waking up and immediately wanting them GONE without the awkward morning chatter.
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